


We'll Survive

by Wallflower (bonniesgoldengirl)



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: And also the Reader with the comparisons, Angst and Feels, Arguing, F/M, I bash Romeo and Juliet, Relationship Problems, Secret Relationship, Smut, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 12:46:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29717370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonniesgoldengirl/pseuds/Wallflower
Summary: Michael and Reader have been seeing each other secretly for a while now, and reader is beginning to think he's just using her. After an explosive argument however, she realises he isn't when a bigger problem comes along
Relationships: Michael Gray/Reader, Michael Gray/You
Kudos: 4





	We'll Survive

**Author's Note:**

> Probably my first truly angsty one shot. Sorry for keeping you waiting so long, love. Also I know Michael gets sent away after coming out of hospital and Arthur is 'killed', but I just found it easier to change that because it makes very little sense in the timeline for these events to happen, so I hope that's OK!   
> Can also be found on Tumblr @bonniesgoldengirl   
> Do not repost my work

When you were young, you had to read Romeo and Juliet in school. Honestly, it was incredibly boring, but maybe that's because of your teacher's dull voice as she read it out loud to the class. You also just couldn't stand the main characters. How stupid did they have to be to keep their relationship secret when they were already married? Only a fool would agree to that.

As it turns out, you've grown up to be quite the fool yourself, in a very similar situation. Though you're not married, you've been in a secret relationship much longer than Romeo and Juliet lasted. Their one week is nothing compared to the ten months you've been hiding your love for Michael Gray from the world.

When you first got together, he insisted on the secrecy for the sake of your safety. He has enemies, as does his family, and he feared for your life. Any connections he has can always be used against him, he said, and he didn't want you to get hurt just for being with him.

You accepted this, of course, because you weren't blind or naïve. You knew who he was, and what he's done, but you couldn't keep yourself away from him even if you wanted to. Michael drew you in with his suave charm and cunning wit. He always knows just what to say to gain your attention, and his intelligence is admirable, not often found in other men who frequent the same pubs that you do. That and his looks are to die for.

But over time, the secrecy has grown tiring. The fleeting visits between work hours that used to be exciting are no longer fulfilling, no matter how you two spend it. The sly winks and grins you two exchange in the streets feel hollow and meaningless, whereas they used to be filled with promises of good times. The whole relationship just feels fake.

You've tried to explain this to Michael, of course, but the subject isn't an easy one. He brushes aside any mention of being public with your relationship, repeating the same words over and over: "it isn't safe." You've begun to doubt that's the reason he doesn't want to tell anyone. You haven't even met his family yet! Thoughts of him just keeping you away from them because he's only using you for sex and has no intention of settling down with you have been crossing your mind more and more lately. Why else would he still act like this? Most of his cousins are married, so it's not like they're keeping any secret partner.

Tonight though, it all feels too much. A plan to go out with some friends is interrupted when the phone rings and Michael explains that he will be particularly busy over the next few days and that a couple of hours tonight is all he can give you right now. You try your best to convince him to just come out drinking with you and your mates, but he refuses, getting frustrated that you're talking about this yet again. When you hang up the phone though, you decide that this conversation is happening tonight and that if he won't budge, you will have to cut yourself free.

So you sit at the kitchen table by yourself, watching the front door anxiously, your heart already in your throat. The clock on the wall ticks and tocks loudly, the noise ringing through your brain. Any minute now, and you'll begin the conversation that could destroy your relationship.

There's a brief knock on the door before Michael lets himself in, as you told him to do when he first started visiting you. His eyes land on your form, and his lips twitch in a small smile, but as he gets closer, he notices that your expression doesn't change, and you don't get up to greet him. It's not long before he's put it together in his head.

"No," he snaps, "no, we're not fuckin' doing this again!" That's another issue with Michael, he can be short-tempered when you two disagree. In the past, you would just let the topic go, not wanting to cause a fight, but tonight it has to be done.

"We need to talk about this," you stress, "because we're in a relationship that's going nowhere."

"It's not 'going nowhere', we just can't tell anyone about it."

"How is it going anywhere if no one fuckin' knows about it and you never want to tell them?" Your voice raises, and you rise from the chair to stand before him. "What's next? A secret marriage? A secret child? I'm sure your mum will love not knowing about her secret grandchildren!"

"Why bring her into this?" Michael demands. His face is crimson red and his nostrils flare, hands waving about sporadically in an uncharacteristic way. Usually when Michael is mad, he just gets grumpy and withdrawn. He's never been animated like he is now.

"Because she's someone who should know about us, but you don't fuckin' want anyone to know! You refuse to even tell your own family about me!" You scream, tears welling in your eyes. He looks at you accusingly.

"What are you getting at?" He interrogates. You suppress a sob as you finally say what you've wanted to for a while now.

"I think the reason you won't tell anyone about me is because I mean nothing to you. I'm just a shag that no one needs to know about." As the words come out, so does a sob that you can't hold in. Instead of calming down and asking if you're alright, which you're sure any person who saw their loved one crying would, Michael scoffs and throws his hands in the air, swiftly turning around.

"If you're accusing me of that shit, then I'm not staying here to listen to it," he shouts. He slams the door behind him as he leaves, and you fall to your knees, tears now flowing freely.

Of course he never really cared. Why would he? He could have any woman he wanted, and he's young, why would he want anything more than someone to fuck? He never had any intention of introducing you to his family, moving in with you, marrying you, having children. It's all just a game to him.

You stay sobbing on the kitchen floor for nearly an hour, eventually getting up and sitting on the chair again, grabbing a tissue from the box and the table and dabbing your eyes. You're sure you must look like a wreck. Eyes red, mouth trembling, cheeks marred by tear tracks, you certainly look like you've been through Hell. In a way, you have.

Feeling tired from all the yelling and crying, you get up and turn off the lights. Before heading upstairs to bed, you lock the door, knowing that Michael won't be coming back tonight, or possibly ever. Maybe this is it for the two of you. It's for the best, you try to reassure yourself, but it doesn't stop the ache in your heart as you listen to the rain hammer against the wooden door.

You turn to go up the stairs, but the doorknob jiggling stops you in your tracks. When the person outside realises that the door won't open, they start pounding their fist against it.

"Y/N!" That oh so familiar voice bellows over the torrential rain. "Open up! Please!"

If it wasn't for the rain, you would leave him out there, pretending to already be asleep, but you worry that if you do, he'll catch his death. So that's why you unlock the door, watching him dash in out of the rain, throwing off his soaked jacket and hat.

Michael finally turns to you when he's taken off his outer layers, and you shut the door to keep the heat in. Arms crossed, you do your best to look strong and unyielding, but something in his eyes makes you freeze.

For the first time since you met him, he looks lost, vulnerable, distraught. Nothing like the level-headed accountant you've come to know. He looks scared. He trembles, which at first glance, one would assume is from the ice-cold rain, but now seems more out of nerves. His skin is pale, and he can't seem to stand still, constantly fidgeting and pacing back and forth a few steps, dripping water onto your floorboards.

It's when you open your mouth to ask what's going on, Michael finally speaks.

"I have to leave," his voice breaks on the last word, eyes filling with tears.

"You just got here," you point out, but you know he didn't mean he has to leave your home.

"I have to leave England," another break in his voice as your breath catches in your throat, a few tears slipping down his cheeks, "they're sending me to America."

"Why?"

"I can't get into it." Normally, you would be irritated with statements like this, but you can't find it in yourself to complain about his secrecy right now. You can't even think of anything to say, really.

"When?" Is all that comes out.

"Tomorrow." More tears from him. Overcome by your own emotions, you rush to him and pull him into your arms, letting him cry against your shoulder. He holds back his sobs, but you can feel the tears dampening the material of your dress. His hands cling to your waist, holding you close, not willing to let you slip out of his grip.

You can't be sure how long you two stand there, but tears have streamed down your face as well. Who knows where your relationship was going before this, but now it seems to be over before you could really enjoy life as a normal couple. Even if he was considering changing his mind about the nature of your relationship before, you two won't be walking through the streets of Small Heath together with him being shipped off to America tomorrow.

Michael finally pulls away, but one hand still remains on your waist, while the other reaches under your chin to hold your face close to his. He looks determined and desperate as he speaks.

"You have never been 'just a shag' to me," he declares, looking deep into your eyes, "I never wanted anyone to know about us because I wanted to protect you. I'm sorry you felt like I didn't care, because I did, I still do. I fuckin' love you, Y/N."

A watery smile makes its way onto your face as more tears fall at his confession.

"I love you too, Mickey." His lips crash against yours, warm and soft. Your hands grasp his cheeks, run through his hair, pull him closer by the nape of his neck, unable to keep your hands from exploring. You're just desperate to feel his skin on yours.

The kiss ends quickly though, as Michael pulls back for air, staring into your eyes with a bittersweet smile.

"I can come with you," you tell him, "we can still be together-"

"It's too dangerous," he cuts you off, "We're surrounded by my family here, and it still wasn't safe. Over there it's a completely different game."

"I don't want to lose you."

"And I don't want to let you go."

His lips are back on yours then, fingers pulling at the buttons on the back of your dress. Impatiently, he simply pulls at the fabric until the buttons fly off. You don't care about the damage though, too busy working through his drenched clothes. The jacket comes off quickly, followed by his waistcoat at a slower pace because of the buttons. Next, his crisp white shirt that sticks to his skin, along with his vest and trousers. He's got you left in your underwear at this point as well, both of you already having kicked off your shoes at some point.

Knowing the bedroom is too far away for how needy you're feeling right now, you pull away and lead him to the couch. No longer patient enough to let him undress you, you remove your underwear and bra yourself, and he does the same with his boxers. Both completely naked now, you sit beside him and kiss him again.

His hand travels down your waist and straight to your wet core. He dips one finger in and you whimper against his lips. You try to wrap your hand around his length but his free hand catches you by the wrist before you can, leading it back up to his shoulder. One finger no longer enough, he pushes in a second, followed quickly by a third.

You're no longer kissing him now. Instead, your head is thrown back and your eyes are clenched shut as you grind your hips against his thrusting fingers.

"Michael," you moan as you get closer and closer to your high. Right before you can topple over the edge, however, he pulls them out, leaving you feeling empty and frustrated. You whine, but he smirks at you and climbs on top of you so you're now lying flat on the sofa. He guides hard, thick cock to your pussy, and as he pushes in, you look at him and promise:

"We'll survive."


End file.
